Kriegspiel [Sequel to The Turing Test]

2. Come Home

"Ronnie."

My eyes open slowly, focusing on a colorless world. Only white surrounds me.

I bolt upright when I notice the absence of Davis's weight. In fact, the platform has disappeared. No trace of the tracks, no ashy remnants to indicate a fire ever existed. As I push myself to my feet, I register the pain-free press of my hands against the ground.

I hold them up to my face. My fingers are intact once more, unblemished as if they never burnt away. I flex them, marveling at the smooth open and close of my joints. I took it for granted once; never again.

"Ronnie."

I turn toward the sound of my name. It echoes with the acoustics of a towering ceiling, crashing down around my ears from above.

"Hello?" I call, squinting upwards. A bright light burns my vision, imprinting itself onto my eyelids when I blink. I raise one healed hand to shield my eyes, but nothing emerges from the bright white.

"Can you hear me?"

The voice is fainter now, skipping in and out of existence like Bluetooth headphones just barely within range. I lean toward it, but my feet stay anchored to the floor.

"Where am I?" I shout. I recognize nothing about this place. Half of it is only fuzzy shapes. A maze of steel tables weave before me, the shine of their metal dulled in spite of the overwhelming brightness.

I look at my hands again. Even my skin has been washed out, just another shade of gray among many.

"Ronnie, can you hear me?" the voice calls again. It reminds me of an old man holding a telephone at arm's length, shouting into the receiver.

"Yes!" I bellow. "Who are—?"

A thousand questions linger on my tongue, but the unknown man interrupts with two words that silence me.

"Come home."

* * *

My own sharp gasp wakes me, the weight of Davis's head on my shoulder offering immediate comfort. I let the rise and fall of my chest slowly even out, laughing inwardly at the irony. Whoever programmed me really did think of everything. I don't even need to breathe, let alone muster up a fight-or-flight response, but as the dream fades away I can feel my heart pumping and my legs itching to run.

I force myself to lay still, blinking up at the ceiling and listening to the soft crackle of the fire. I don't want to wake Davis.

But he stirs anyway, his breath whistling through his nose as he inhales slowly and deeply. "What is it?" he asks, sitting up.

"Nothing." I try to pull him back down on top of me, but he won't budge. "Davis, it's nothing. Just a dream."

"Was it him?"

Maven's voice startles us both, and I look up as she takes a hasty step forward, looming over us. Her eyes shine, and I know the name on the tip of her tongue.

Darwin?

I hear the waver in her question, trying to hide eagerness, and despite our differences I wish I could tell her yes. I know what she means to him. I've felt the way she shields the winds of his anger, turning them from hurricane to gentle breeze. He forgets his hatred when he sees her.

I want to tell her all of it, but all I can do is shake my head.

"So you really dream?" she asks, forcing a severe frown to hide her disappointment.

"Yeah," I answer cautiously, sitting up now too. "Doesn't everybody?"

She glances at Linus, and then the other androids one by one, and they all shake their heads.

"What do you dream?" Linus asks.

I shrug. "Only of Darwin."

Maven folds her arms. "But it wasn't him?"

Again, I shake my head. Davis's hand closes around mine, and I stay anchored to the floor. I don't want to make him stand up. He needs to conserve his energy.

"What was it about?" Linus asks.

I turn to him, but he blends into the darkness so well that I can only make out the whites of his eyes. "I don't know. It was just someone calling my name. He...told me to come home."

My words meet a wall of silence. More of them have gathered around now, staring down at us with rapt attention. I feel Davis watching my profile closely from eyes that sink deeper and deeper into his skull with each passing day. The shadows play in the hollows of his gaunt cheeks, making him look like something straight out of hell.

"Come home?" Maven repeats slowly.

I understand the uncertain note in her voice. I don't understand it either. This, down here, is the closest thing I have to a home anymore.

Davis shifts closer, his shoulder pressing against mine. The corners of his mouth twitch downward, his eyebrows drawing up at the center, and what I see in his eyes looks almost like pity.

"You think it's Sven," I realize, leaning away and then staring up at the others. "You all do."

"What else would home mean?" Maven points out.

"No." I shake my head. "I didn't recognize the voice, it wasn't his."

"Of course it wasn't," she says. "He's not that stupid."

"Ronnie, you don't dream," Linus adds. "You see things. Things other people want you to see."

"You think I'm being hacked?"

I wrap my arms around myself even as I ask, like I have any defense against unwanted code. It's just another reminder that I'm a computer, as susceptible to malware as any laptop or smart device. I shouldn't care—shouldn't have the capacity to care—but the possible violation of my mind leaves something molten in my stomach. It twists in hot, queasy knots.

No one answers my question, but I know what they would have said. Their resounding yes reverberates inside my skull like a pounding bass beat: Overpowering, consuming, easy to lose yourself in.

"I should go," I whisper, disentangling myself from Davis and rising.

"Ronnie, no." I hear him scrambling to his feet behind me, feel his fingers graze my arm, but I don't turn back to him.

Maven watches me, her eyes half-lidded and her arms still cinched tightly over her chest. I hear the agreement in her silence, loud and clear.

"It's not safe for anyone if I'm down here," I mumble.

"Then I'm coming with you."

"No," I answer immediately.

"I wasn't asking," he shoots right back.

"And neither am I." I don't mean to snap at him, but the cold dread rising from my stomach forces my words out before they've softened. "Stay here."

"You can't order me around, Ronnie!"

"Stay here!" I shout, my voice echoing from the cavernous ceiling as I wheel away. I meet Maven's eyes as I march past and give her one last pleading look.

"Take care of him," I whisper. "Please."

As I stumble into the darkness of the tunnel beyond, I hope she understands how much of me went into that one word.

With each step, I shiver, tempted to slap a hand over my eyes and feel my way clumsily to the surface in case I'm not the only one looking through them.

Get out. Don't be seen.

Don't be seen from.